This story is paired with Chapter XIII of Bulfinch’s Mythology. For best experience, download the LithoReader for your iPhone or iPad and get NonBinary Review for free.
There was a tipping point but I was already
running like hell. I’ll go down for having
the best memory when I remember the most;
earn an award if I detail the scenes graphically.
I was exhilarated cuz wrath was chasing me down.
My legs were weighed down cuz someone stabbed me
with epiniephrine pens as I ran by their hidey hole.
They were just trying to help but my, our, glass casings
raucous pumped. I fell and broke the needles
in my thighs, sharded my belly—I threw an allergic exorcism.
I tasted it. I realized I had never been alone.
I didn’t thank anyone.
I have been asked to prove I was wronged, not who wronged me.
It isn’t something I can lie about. Here’s a fucking
topographical replica. Judges will evaluate my rendition
with their fingers in my mouth.
At some point following turned to chasing, likely
at the tipping point I missed because I was running
rapidly past coincidence after coincidence.
I request a rapid transport to another country and body
cuz mine is terrifying; the jury look exhilarated and
infatuated. If there was consent, I ran right past it.
I needed to get away while I was euphoric.
My history becomes a door others open
and is less tangible to me.
It was near the beginning. Fire burned up the evidence.
I ran right through the hot of it and I didn’t know it.
I don’t have to prove nature, just acts.
My memories are objects at a touch-me wake,
wrath was behind me before I was born.
I tell the sexiest stories because I was present.
Kate Litterer’s poems appear in numerous online and print journals, such as Coconut, h_ngm_n, Forklift, Ohio, The Destroyer, and phantomb limb. One of her poems will be included in the anthology Please Excuse This Poem: 100 Poems for the Next Generation, forthcoming from Penguin in 2015.